Ninja, have you found my coffee yet?

The most important reason I love mornings?

The light. It’s different in the morning – there is a special glow to it that seeps through the skin and straight into the soul. It’s fresh and clean and uncorrupted. It’s the light of new beginnings. Waking up, looking out of the window for the first time for the day, I cannot help but feel good about what is to come – mostly because I know so much unwasted opportunity lies ahead.

The morning light is almost like a spell. It motivates and inspires, yet it feels so serene. The light doesn’t seem to be rushing anywhere, and I usually find myself wanting to sit calmly with it, watch the world rush by and listen in quietly on my own thoughts. Sitting with the light in the morning is like that deep breath one takes before a challenging task, serving as a reinforcement of strength and inner peace.

There are two other reasons I love mornings. One of them is coffee. I just really love coffee and morning is exactly the perfect time to drink it. Mornings and coffee go together better than a horse and carriage (ambiguous Frank Sinatra reference is ambiguous). I do in fact drink coffee at other times of the day as well, most notably any time between lectures at university, but there is something special about that first mug of coffee in the morning. It is like saying, “Here. I took a sip of my coffee. I am ready to start the day. Bring it on!” And then all you want to do is sit at the kitchen table and watch through the window as the morning slowly changes and becomes something else. Or, well, I do that. In probability, though, I am not the only one.

There is another reason for me to love mornings, and that is Ninja, my cat. During the day and most of the evening, she’s generally too worked up to notice anything besides how tasty this or other part of my body is. In that highly fluid state she is also fond of trash bins, cotton swabs and shoes. In the morning, however, she is all purrs and mews and adorable faces. She follows me around everywhere and uses any chance she gets to curl up in my lap or knead on my knees. I know the last one is actually a sign my cat is trying to kill me, but she looks so adorable doing it that I’m willing to forgive her even murder.

So yes. I do like mornings quite a bit and for several reasons. Mornings are a time of reflection, preparation and peace, a chance to watch the day unfold and drink that first cup of coffee that always tastes different than the next ones.

And now I look forward to tomorrow.

Let’s see.

Among 200 Stanford University students questioned about their iPhone habits, 75 percent said they fall asleep with their iPhones snuggled next to them.

I don’t exactly snuggle my iPhone. Nope, definitely can’t say that. In fact, most nights the phone gets to sleep on the floor. You know, so it wouldn’t get any hairs in my bed. Phone hairs, ugh. But I do like to play the occasional game or two of Minesweeper before I fall asleep. Somehow iPhone games tire me reeaaaally fast when it’s dark and I’m under a blanket – they’re almost as good as sleeping pills.

What else…

When leaving for school in the morning, 69 percent said they’re more likely to forget their wallets than their iPhones.

True. I think that’s mostly because I feel simply poor without a wallet, but technologically and communicatively handicapped when I’m out without a phone. Although, strangely enough, even having the phone with me with an empty battery is better than having no phone at all. What does that say about me? I’m addicted to knowing I could be reachable if only (insert negation of problem here)?

The other reason I’m more likely to remember my phone is that I always keep my wallet in the same place. I sometimes forget to move it when I switch bags. I rarely take it out when I’m at home, whereas the phone is next to me or nearby almost all the time, just so I would know where it is. So I wouldn’t have to spend fifteen minutes looking for it when I need to make a call in a hurry or be out of the house in five.

And I always put the phone in the pocket with my very own hands before leaving. That’s because I also use is as an iPod.

The next quote is my absolute favorite.

Almost 10 percent said they sometimes pat their iPhone, 3 percent have named it, and 8 percent have suspected at one time that their iPod is jealous of their iPhone.

Mine’s named Jesus. I talk to it sometimes. Especially when I’m frustrated. Or in a good mood. I think I broke my iPod’s heart when I didn’t need it anymore and sold it.

But iPhones are not only good for showing affection, they’re also excellent for avoiding showing affection:

…almost three-quarters admitted that they’ve used their iPhone to avoid making eye contact with others.

Yeah, I’ve done that. I’ve also used it in embarrassing situations to show that I’m all about business and I totally did that awkward thing on purpose. Which brings me to my next point.

…a majority of the students said that buying the phone simply made them feel cool.

Hah. Besides the few non-computer geek people that I know, all my friends have mocked me for buying something from Apple. Because they’re also gamers. I’m guessing you already know why they think Apple is the joke of the last two centuries.

But I’m not an Apple junkie. I’m not even an iPhone junkie, unlike all those numerous Stanford undergrads that believe they are becoming or already are addicted to their phones. I don’t find my phone alluring. I find it useful.

When I first got my iPhone, it was just a pretty thing to carry around and show off to people. In time I’ve learned to use it as a tool rather than a status symbol – it really is a useful device. I do see it as a friend in a sense, though – it helps me out when I need it: checking the time and the weather, calculating prices at the grocery store, browsing the net for important information when my laptop is not around, using Maps when I’m not sure where I’m supposed to be going.

But I wouldn’t get lost without it – I’d print out a map at home.
I wouldn’t get ripped off at the store – I’d bring a calculator or use my brain.
I would still get to check the weather – that’s what thermometers and windows are for.

Regardless of the above three lines, I do like my phone very much. It’s pretty and it plays music for me when I walk.

We’re good together. We don’t need any counseling. So back off.

It’s been an odd day, emotionally. I woke up to a horrible migraine (third day), not the least rested or happy. But somehow I managed to get out of bed and elevate my mood. I listened to a song I discovered yesterday, which did not make me exactly joyous, but I did feel better. In a very odd way.

For a while now, I’ve been feeling as if I’m floating. Or stranded. Or just plain lost. I’m hovering in a strange fluffy space between choices, ready to leap but still waiting for the right door to open. I can’t even think of anything to compare this to (maybe this can be attributed to my general tiredness). It’s like… Well, it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s not a feeling of uncertainty. I’m not scared. I’m not worried. Im just.

Waiting.

And I know everything is going to be alright.

Also, I have beer.

When we were transporting some of our things to the new apartment, I found myself thinking about change. About how in the greater scheme of my life moving from one house in Annelinn to another one in Annelinn is probably not that significant a change, but how this tiny little new start can give me something to hold on to in this strange state of fluidity that I’m currently in. It’s solid. It’s something that needs to be dealt with. It keeps my mind from floating off.

Change is good. Change reminds us that we are not static creatures. We change too, even when the circumstances around us remain the same. The constantly altering outside world forces us to notice and keep up with the changes inside. Or it makes us wait for change to happen. Either way, I welcome it.

I also welcome beer, which I have.

Now I’m off to eat the cake which I just baked, and which I also have. It has bananas. And chocolate.

So. Change.

P.S. Just in case you’re shy – you don’t have to say anything deep or very substantial in your comment. I welcome notices of dropping by just as much. I’d add a smiley, but I’m too tired to smile in real life, so putting one here would be kind of hypocritical, no?

To me moving out was a relatively painless experience. The whole idea of living away from home and my family had been sinking in for years, so when the moment finally came, I was well prepared for it. The first weeks were tougher than the rest, and in a way they were also the greatest. All the excitement about a new way of life and a new environment mixed with a bittersweet longing for home made for an interesting blur of emotions, but not once did it knock me off my feet. It got tough later, when the tiny little annoyances of everyday life began to manifest: unwashed dishes, bills, money, responsibility over my own diet and school attendance… All of it.

I have learned a lot since moving out. About life, about people, and most of all about myself. I cannot say I regret leaving home. It has in fact been one the wisest choices I have ever made, for this has improved my relationship with my mother a great deal – we talk more now than we did when we used to live in the same house. We appreciate each other more. I don’t take her for granted anymore, and I’m sure she doesn’t take me that way either. Being separated from her has really shown me how much I love and need her in my life.

I think that has been the greatest lesson of all, one I am most grateful for.

How has living away from home changed you? What was it like in the beginning? Do you regret it? Do you wish things were/had gone differently?

I just read an article at freelancefolder.com, which talks about some good ways to kick-start the writing habit. Most of these were not new to me, but it was nice to have a short overview of the most basic and usually most successful ways to fight the block. There was one that stood out especially, and I decided it was one that I have to try. It is about making a commitment, and I need to learn how to make commitments and really stick to them, so it would also be a nice learning experience.

The advice says that I should schedule a regular time for me to write, and show up even when I’m not sure I will write anything. That will let my subconscious know it’s writing time, and the habit would soon ease getting into writing mode for my brain. It is said to work really well with eradicating writer’s block. Not that I complain of having writer’s block – most of the time it’s just my own laziness that keeps the words from coming out, which underlines even more clearly the need for me to discipline myself in the writing department. If I’m going to become a journalist or write anything at all, I will need some self-control. I will need to be able to write regularly – even when whatever I’m putting down is crap, because everyone writes crap sometimes. Even the really good writers. At least they say so…

So I will take a look at my school schedule tomorrow and decide on the time most suitable for me to set aside for writing. And I will show up. Every day. We’ll see how long I can keep that up. Hopefully my whole life. Or until something comes up that changes my plans and turns them into something even better.

Until that time comes along, I will keep working with what I have.

Now – I’m not very conscious about what I eat, at least not around other people. I want to eat a chip, but you don’t approve – who cares. It’s my body, it’s my hunger, I’m going to kill it however I darn well please. The problem is, though, that my body disapproves of the food I’ve been shoving into it lately. I don’t feel as good as I used to, and this is something I have noticed every time I start drinking sodas again. Also, ever since I started drinking Coca-Cola again after months of being clean (lol), I stopped losing weight. So I have come to a decision. I’m making a promise, as a late new year’s resolution kind of thing. It’s not a huge one, but still a moderately sized one for me, and one I sincerely hope I can keep, for the sake of my self-esteem (hah). Here goes.

I will not eat any sweets (candy, chocolate, that kind of stuff) nor drink any soft drinks (mainly Coca-Cola and its buddies) for a WHOLE YEAR, starting today, January 24, 2010. Yeah. I’m that cool. I’m gonna be that awesome. I will rock the world with my awesome new year’s resolution. Take that, other people with new year’s resolutions. I have one too. And I’m intending to see it through. Because I’m just that awesome.

This is pretty much all I wanted to say. I hope everyone is doing well and eating a lot of fruit. Or vitamin food supplements. Whichever way you swing.

Have an awesome next week.

What is it about procrastination that draws us to it so, even though we would much rather do what we should be doing instead? How come we (or maybe it’s just me) keep putting things off just for the sake of putting them off? Yeah yeah – laziness and all that, but seriously. I know that if I fail the math exam the upcoming Tuesday, I will never forgive myself for flunking it, and yet I won’t lift a finger to get to studying. And I’m not even angry at myself, only slightly annoyed. Maybe I feel like I deserve a rest after the last few frantic weeks that I’ve had, but the work is still far from done, and the exam looms ahead, and I still have tons of homework to do and deep down inside I feel like I’m going crazy.

Well, go figure.

(Six hours later…)

So I slept some more, and cleaned some more, and have now officially gotten down with two hours worths of actual math. I took a brief glance at my materials a while back and suddenly realized how much of it there was and that I have about a hundred problems to solve before 10 am on Monday, and that it is probably going to take me hours to get some of them done, because I missed all the lectures and did not pay attention in half of the practice lessons.

That’s my problem. When I fall off the wagon, I don’t even try to get back on. For some reason, after I’ve been absent from one lecture and don’t have the notes so I don’t understand anything in the following practice lesson, I just give up. It’s not until a week before the exam that I realize I’m missing half a semester’s worth of notes, and it’s not until three days before the exam that I finally get them all together and actually start studying. To my credit, though, I can say that I tend to work well under pressure. Have so far, at least.

The exam is on Tuesday. I’m a little scared, but feeling better now that I’m actually doing something to help myself pass it (because blogging instead of solving math problems is totally the way to go).

In other news, I have a new calendar/notebook thingy. I love it. It has yellow pages and dates and lines for me to write stuff on. Awesome. (Or maybe I’m just too easy to please.)

In other other news, I went to the grocery store and bought myself chips (that’s crisps for any of you islanders). Ate them. Realized I had not even wanted them. I had only wanted to spend my last money. Now I’m broke until I go home on Tuesday. F**k yeah.

Reasons this is good:

1. No drunk people commemorating around the park benches. They used to be there every night, even when the temperature was near freezing. Good thing -17C is too much even for those who can’t seem to be able to do anything with their lives but mope around in public areas with a bottle of hard liquor in their hands every evening.
2. Everything looks like Edward. Sparkle-sparkle. I don’t like Edward, but I do like sparkly things on a winter morning.
3. The cold wakes me up when I have to run to school at 7:30.

Reasons this is bad:

1. IT’S COLD. Need I say more? Today I wore two pairs of tights under my pants and three sweaters under my winter jacket. I put on my three meter long especially wintery scarf and pulled a hood over my hat. I couldn’t find the mittens I usually wear over my gloves when it’s this cold, so my hands were not all that comfortable, since the pockets on my jacket are too small to easily hide them. I now need bucketfuls of hand lotion to resurrect the dry skin on my knuckles.

Okay, so I may have exaggerated with the last bit, but my hands do get terribly dry every time the cold hits. All in all, though, the pros outweigh the cons, so I guess I’m cool with winter.

Except for the depression part. Go to Antarctica, depression. Eat some ice.

P.S. Hello, New Shiny Blog.